


heart's desire

by veilfyre (orphan_account)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff, Post-Break Up, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 21:42:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5681869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/veilfyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When I was a young girl—I mean, an even younger girl—my Keeper found another hunter and me drinking wine we’d stumbled across nearby. You should have seen her face! 'Did I not tell you that this makes you easy prey for Fen’Harel?'" It seemed to amuse her a great deal. “What in alas'en would the Dread Wolf want with some drunk girl?”</p><p>Solas could think of many things he would do with her, and his thoughts might have easily slipped somewhere darker, but he could not afford to think them in her presence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heart's desire

Skyhold was never truly silent; too many people preoccupied it. But there was a peaceful quietness at night that was not present during the daytime, so when Solas heard the doors of the castle crash open with the force of a grown Qunari far past midnight, he frowned. For a few moments he could not make out any more noises, but then someone crashed against some sort of object—most likely one of the tables in the hall—and cursed. Dorian was the first person coming to his mind, perhaps back from one of his trysts with the Iron Bull, but the voice sounded female and, he realized belatedly, the curse was spoken in his tongue. 

It had to be the Inquisitor.

Ever since he ended what had been between them, their relationship was strained. It was not her fault, quite the contrary, in fact. She behaved mature, wise beyond her years, and tried to keep their relationship cordial, but he still saw the sadness in her eyes, detested himself for it, and could never bear to look at her for too long. 

Just then, the door to the rotunda bursted open, and Lavellan staggered in. 

“Fen'Harel ver na”, she swore, and Solas raised a brow. She smelled like ale from the tavern, and clearly lacked orientation. He had never seen her intoxicated before. 

“For someone who fears the Dread Wolf as much as your people do, you utter his name remarkably often.”

She snorted, an undignified, yet endearing sound he had not heard before. “Ah, the Dread Wolf! Fen’Harel! Creators save us,” Lavellan called out dramatically, undoubtedly mimicking the people of her clan. 

Of course of all the Dalish he had crossed paths with, she would be the one that lacked fear of Fen’Harel. 

“When I was a young girl—I mean, an even younger girl—my Keeper found another hunter and me drinking wine we’d stumbled across nearby. You should have seen her face!  _ Did I not tell you that this makes you easy prey for Fen’Harel? _ ” It seemed to amuse her a great deal. “What in alas'en would the Dread Wolf want with some drunk girl?”

Solas could think of many things he would do with her, and his thoughts might have easily slipped somewhere darker, but he could not afford to think them in her presence. He stayed silent, but Lavellan did not seem to care that he did not answer and continued to blabber.

“You know, I always thought that Fen’Harel and Ghilan'nain had something going on.”

“I highly doubt it,” he retorted dryly.

She looked at him, thoughtful in a way only intoxicated people could be, and nodded seriously. “You’re probably right. Hard to imagine a halla and a wolf together.”

He sighed. “Come now,  _ da’len _ , I will see you to your room.”

Solas did his best to ignore her deliberately exaggerated suggestive stare, only touching her to guide her up the flight of stairs to her quarters. It would be easy to slip inside her room, take off her clothes and—but he could not. He had done enough damage already. 

“Good night, Inquisitor,” he said when they were there, and saw her flinch at the formal title. He could not help but wonder about the hurt he caused her that she did not let show. Maybe he indeed was the beast the Dalish liked to paint him as after all. 

“Solas, sathan, gara in,” Lavellan said to him, and before he could object, she sighed, long-suffering. “Don’t worry, I won’t rip off your clothes.”

_ No _ , he thought,  _ but I might rip off yours _ , and detested himself all the more for it. When it came to her, his self-control was all but non-existent.

“Just because we’re not  _ doing it _ in the Fade anymore, or anywhere else for that matter, doesn’t mean we can’t keep each other company from time to time,” she added pointedly, a slight slur to her voice. 

“Very well then.” The smile she gave him was brighter than Elgar'nan’s sun, and a much more beautiful sight than it. He walked up the next set of stairs behind her and fixed his eyes on her back so he would not look at her lush bottom. 

The fire in the hearth was crackling and he sat down on the sofa, glancing at her bed. They had not shared it many times, more often than not a bedroll with a tent over their head had to suffice, but the times they did were etched in his memory all too well. 

When Lavellan joined him on the sofa, he looked at her. “Is there an occasion for your indulgence? Something to celebrate, perhaps?”

She faltered for a moment, her eyes fixed on her hands, before she spoke. “Bull and Dorian invited me. They thought I needed to cheer up.”

“And did they succeed?”

Lavellan still would not look at him, all of her mirth now gone, but he could see the wetness in her eyes. He had strung her along, declaring his love, removed her vallaslin, only to leave her, and expected her to be cheered up by a few pints of ale? What an utterly stupid question. 

“Ir abelas,” Solas told her. “I did not think. Perhaps I should take my leave.”

“Mi’nas’sal’inan.” _ I miss you. _ Her voice was cracking, and it shattered his heart. “I miss waking up next to you. I miss you calling me your heart. I miss touching you. I miss having you inside me.”

Lavellan turned towards him, but he could not find any words. Hers ringed in his ears, and he was half hard already. He knew he should leave, but he did not have it in him, his body craving what his mind knew he should not have.

For a second he wondered if she had planned this, but she was kind and honest, all the things he was not, and so help him, he wanted her, body and soul. 

“Don’t you miss that, ‘ma’haurasha?” One of her delicate hands now rested on his thigh and the touch burned him, sending a jolt of heat to his cock. “Don’t you miss being inside me?”

Solas was achingly, painfully hard. His control was hanging by a thread, and he knew he had lost, would always lose, when she spoke again. “I  _ need _ you, Solas.”

Their kiss started out gentle, all gasps and whimpers and hot lips, but soon it was not enough— _ it never would be _ —and he deepened the kiss like a parched man drinking water. Before long the need to feel her bare skin became almost overwhelming. He all but ripped her tunic off and, without hesitating, bit down where her neck sloped into her shoulder and sucked, making her claw at his clothes in return.

After soothing the bite with his tongue, he allowed Lavellan to get rid of his tunic before she stood up, discarding her trousers, and then she was gloriously naked, the flames of the hearth bathing her in gold and scarlet. He knew then that he was ruined, but he could not bring himself to care. 

“Vhenan”, he said, voice rough. “Vhen’an’ara.”

His cock ached to be touched, twitching when he pulled free the laces on his trousers, taking them off, and then they were on her bed. He was on top of her, pressing his body to hers. He let her feel the hard line of his cock and she let out a low moan that made him mad with want. He nosed along her collarbone and kissed a path down to her breasts, scraping her rosy nipples with his teeth, caressing them with his tongue. 

He slipped first one, then two fingers inside her and curled them, finding her sweet spot. Lavellan was wet, her lips swollen. She gasped and arched into his touch with a needy whimper, and he drank in the sight, unconsciously rutting against the mattress. She trembled when the calloused pad of his finger circled her clit. 

Solas settled between her legs and teased her, running the throbbing head of his cock up and down her entrance, gathering moisture. He could hear her whimper his name again and again, like a prayer, and it nearly undid him right there.   
  
As her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him closer, he slid into her with a single thrust. Her cunt squeezed him, hot and wet and tight and  _ perfect _ . He pulled out, almost all the way, before he buried himself in her again, his cock sliding deeper than he thought possible, fingers digging almost painfully into her hips.

Her nails raked over his chest and he hissed in pleasure, taking her with a need that surprised even him. He held her tight as he started pounding into her hard and fast, hips snapping furiously, sheathing himself repeatedly in her slick, tight heat.

“Solas, please,” she begged. He slipped one hand between them, brushing her clit, and Lavellan came with a strangled cry, back arched, her cunt clenching around him, squeezing him. Slamming into her as deep as he could, his thrusts became ragged and frantic, and then he jerked into her with a guttural groan, filling her with hot jets of his seed.

When he came to his senses, he was still buried inside her. She nuzzled his neck and he gathered her in his arms, kissing her with incredible tenderness.

“Ar lath ma, ‘ma’av’in,” he told her, gently combing through her silky hair with his fingers. If there were no other truths that he could give her, he would at least have her this one. They lay in silence for a while before she started speaking.

“If you leave me again… I can’t. I just… can’t,” she whispered with disarming vulnerability.

He closed his eyes briefly, composing himself. “I am not who I appear to be,” Solas told her. He’d let her have this, too, just  this one admission. 

The soft laugh that came from Lavellan took him by surprise. “And who do you appear to be? An elf, neither Dalish nor from the city, a mage that has never been in a Circle, yet possesses seemingly endless knowledge about the Fade? I may not be a Hissrad, but I’m not oblivious.”

Of course she was not. She was all sharp tongue and sharp wit and this, he supposed, was why he loved her, too. “You truly are unique.”

“Sweet talker,” she teased, and he chuckled. “I wish you would trust me, but we will get there.  Var lath vir suledin.”

He knew he did not deserve her, but he pressed his lips to her forehead anyway. “I hope so, vhenan.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Fen'Harel ver na: Dread Wolf take you  
> Alas'en: World  
> Sathan, gara in: Please come (in)  
> Ir abelas: I am sorry  
> Mi’nas’sal’inan: I miss you (I feel the knife once more within my soul), referring to a deep longing, or nostalgic longing for something that you miss terribly, have a deep attachment to, or know you will never get back  
> ‘Ma’haurasha: My honey. A very sexual endearment that essentially means “You make me wet,” or “You make me hard.”  
> Vhenan: Heart  
> Vhen’an’ara: Heart's Desire  
> Ar lath ma: I love you  
> ‘Ma’av’in: My mouth. A very personal and slightly sexual endearment. The meaning is essentially, “I love you so much, and desire you so much, that my mouth tastes like yours.” But also means, “We understand each other on such a personal level, that you could talk for me.”  
> Var lath vir suledin: Our love will persevere


End file.
